Confessions on the Rooftop
by Henrika
Summary: Grissom finally pays some attention to the youngest member of the team, though he's a bit late to save him from himself. No character death.
1. Falling Faster

Confessions on the Rooftop  
By Henrika

Henrika- Long title, I know. This particular piece sat around as an unfinished concept in a notebook for two years. Then one day I happened to think about it and I revamped the concept with knowledge from the current shows, though namely season 5. Should have a handful of chapters. Enjoy and review!

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Gil Grissom did not enjoy paperwork. It took him away from experiments and cases that he found much more worthwhile. But being nightshift supervisor required that he did do paperwork, copious amounts of it.

And timesheets were some of the things that he signed off on most frequently.

He pulled Warrick's timesheet off the stack. The man had maxed out his overtime on a high profile case with Catherine. He grabbed her's too and scribbled his signature on them both. A husband had started to slowly poison his wife, then got impatient and strangled her. It had taken the pair a number of shifts to figure out how to link him to both actions (fingerprints on the iron bottle and matching his hand size to the ligature marks).

Sara and Nick (who was still slightly leery about working solo again) had worked a triple homicide on the strip. It had turned out to be a rather simple case. A husband had finally tracked down a cheating wife and her lover to a hotel room and shot them both before shooting himself. He signed off on the two forms and added them to the growing stack of his "out" box.

He pulled the last form in front of him, realizing that it was a few sheets thicker than the others. He flipped though them, finding a trend that he didn't like to see. He checked the last few entries and realized that they were continuous. _Which means a triple shift._ He thought with concern. And he found with annoyance that Ecklie's signature was already on the form. _Which means that he approved this._ Grissom didn't like when his team worked double shifts, much less triple ones. He glanced at the name heading the sheet, "Greg Sanders". The younger man had helped him wrap up a case and then it looked like Ecklie had pressed him into running DNA for both the dayshift and the swing shift. He suddenly recalled that the dayshift person had had a family emergency and the woman running nightshift had clocked out sick, swing shift being shared between the two of them. And Greg would now be starting on his fourth shift.

He decided to go send Greg home and stood up, tossing the sheet on the stack as he did.

He went to the glass-enclosed DNA lab first, shaking his head for a moment as his eyes immediately picked out the pane of glass that replaced the one that the lab explosion had blown Greg through. A quick glance told him the lab was empty, but he went inside anyways. He was confronted by several neat stacks of samples and results, along with a still-steaming mug of Greg's famous Blue Hawaiian coffee. He looked over a few of the results, finding that all of them were triple-checked. _This must have taken him hours._ He paused mentally, realizing that that statement was very true. He checked a few more of the labs before he came across the rest of his team in the break room.

"Have any of you seen Greg?"

"I saw him in the DNA lab awhile ago." Nick said, looking up from the sports section of the paper.

"So did I. Why was he covering DNA anyways?" Catherine asked, stirring sugar into her coffee.

"He's not in there. And it looks like Conrad told him to."

"Come to think of it, he's been in there since last shift. How long has he been working Gris?" Warrick added.

"Too long. I'm trying to send him home."

"Guys?" They turned and found Sara clutching a small bag of coffee. "Greg never lets this stuff out of his sight. It was on the counter."

"C'mon. We'd better find him." Nick said.

"Nick, you and Sara take the labs and the morgue. Warrick, you check outside. Maybe he just went out for some fresh air. Catherine, you look around and see if anyone has seen him. I'll walk around and see if I can find him." They left to their respective tasks, Sara still holding the bag of Blue Hawaiian.

Grissom took a loop around the floor, before he noticed that the roof exit door was slightly ajar. He hurried up the stairs, getting a funny feeling that belied all of his rational instincts. He stared over the expansive maze of antennas and pipes that were beginning to cast eerie shadows with the aid of the setting sun and the street lights that were starting to flicker on and began making a thorough perimeter. The sick feeling in his stomach got even worse the farther he went. And it culminated as he caught sight of the lab-coated figure slumped against the roof's edge. "Greg!" He ran to the young man's side, feeling his neck for a pulse even as he pulled him off the edge. "Greg? Greg?" The pulse came back weak and Grissom made the frightening analogy that the man's skin was about as cold as that of a dead body. His hand drifted to Greg's forehead almost relieved to find the fever there because it meant Greg was still alive.

Rational thought ground back to work in Grissom's brain and he pulled out his cell phone. "9-1-1. Emergency response. What is your emergency?"

"I have an unconscious co-worker here. He's feverish and looks very pale. We're at the CSI lab."

"We're dispatching a unit immediately. Please stay calm sir."

"Do you need me to stay on the line?"

"Only if you'd like to sir."

"Thank you." He hung up and dialed Catherine. "Cath, I need you to gather up the team. I found Greg."

"Where are you? Is he okay?"

"The roof. No, he's not." He hung up over her next frantic questions and turned his attention back to Greg. As gently as he could he lowered the younger man to the ground, noting with concern the rings that had formed under his eyes. Greg's eyelids suddenly screwed shut and he rolled over onto his side and threw up, blood laced through the clear fluid. _When was the last time he ate?_ "Greg?"

The spiky-haired blonde coughed a bit before moaning and trying to open his eyes. "Grissom?" His eyes were clouded and he struggled to focus them on his boss, his face palely illuminated by the lamplight that pooled on the rooftop.

"Easy Greg. Just take it easy."

"Sorry." He whimpered, though Grissom couldn't tell just what he was apologizing for.

"It's alright." He rubbed circles onto Greg's back like his mother had done when he was sick. Greg threw up again, this time mostly blood. Grissom heard a door slam back and heard shouting as the rest of his team found their way to their location. "It's alright Greg. It's alright." The younger man nodded slightly and closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing as he passed out again.

"Grissom! Greg!" Nick was the first to reach them, falling to his knees beside them. "What happened?" He reached out a hand and gingerly wiped the blood away from Greg's mouth.

"He was unconscious when I found him and he just threw up a fair amount of blood. Ambulance is on the way."

"Damn." Warrick knelt beside Nick, examining the thick crimson that was seeping into the stone. Sara and Catherine went to Grissom's side, Sara switching the bag of coffee she was still holding to one hand so she could stroke Greg's hair with the other.

The group looked up as they heard the sirens growing in intensity. "One of us needs to get them and show them where to go." Nick pointed out, now clutching Greg's lifeless hand.

"I'll go." Catherine volunteered after a moment.

"Catherine, I want you in charge for the rest of shift. Handle any cases that come in and hand off everything else to dayshift. I'm going to go with him. I'll call Catherine and she can update all of you on his condition and what room he's in. After shift, you're free to go. No overtime. Does everyone understand?" They nodded and Catherine left, returning quickly with two paramedics.

They loaded Greg onto a backboard, forcing the team to step back and away from him. Instruments were hooked up and they carefully eased him down the stairs until they reached they reached the parking lot. He was pushed into the ambulance and Grissom hopped in behind him, his look barring protest. "Take care of him Grissom." Nick said as they slammed the doors.

And looking at the pale young man strapped down on the stretcher, Grissom was forced to whisper, "But I already failed."

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Henrika- I am so evil to poor Greg. It makes for good fiction though.


	2. Too Close To The Truth

Confessions on the Rooftop  
By Henrika

Henrika- I'm glad this fic is going over well. Considering that it is still Valnetine's Day for another hour or two, I give you all the gift of angst and further depth on how I'm torturing Greg. With love of course. Enjoy and Review!

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Chapter 2

"Dr. Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Harper. I've been treating Mr. Sanders." The gray-haired doctor held out his hand and Grissom shook it, standing up from the uncomfortable plastic chair he had been sitting in for the better part of two hours.

"How is he?"

"One moment, if you don't mind." The man flipped open a file folder he had had under his arm and flicked through a few sheets before landing on the one he wanted. "Ah yes, here we go. You see, the hospital get awfully upset if I release information to people if they aren't on the list. And you're on the list."

He turned the folder to face Grissom and Gil read his name, which was right under "Olaf Hojem" and before "Nick Stokes", "Sara Sidle", "Catherine Willows", and "Warrick Brown". He remembered Greg talking about a Papa Olaf and was shocked to find that he was the only family member listed. When Greg had been in the lab explosion, he hadn't given any thought to the fact that no one had come to see him.

"Anyways, would you like to sit down? There are some things I'd like to discuss with you. You're his boss, correct?'

"Yes." Grissom nodded and sat down, the doctor sitting behind him.

"Good, good." Harper said genially, flipping through his folder again. "Well, good news first. Mr. Sanders is stable now, though he's still unconscious."

Grissom let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "And the bad news?"

"I'm afraid there's a lot of that. Normally, I would say this was a case of exhaustion that had progressed just a bit farther than we like. But…"

"But?"

The doctor's smile dissolved. "The symptoms are too severe. This wasn't just a case of overworking, though that was the catalyst for this episode. This has been going on for quite awhile now. He's underweight. Severe fatigue is obvious. His ribs are bruised, probably from the fall. He coughed up blood for a good half-hour before we managed to stop it. We were thinking a mild case of pneumonia and then the excessive coughing to explain that. I had to go back and comb his records to explain the extensive scarring on his back."

"There was an explosion, a few years ago. The crime lab." Grissom said meekly.

"Hmm. I seem to remember the burn ward doctors talking about something like that. He was the one?"

"Yes. So is he going to be alright?"

"He's very ill Dr. Grissom. We've got him on IV to replace the blood and nutrients he's lost. He's on morphine to ease the pain because he managed to tear up his throat pretty badly with all that coughing. There's a tube down his throat to help him breathe. We have him heavily sedated to combat the fatigue, something of a 'healing sleep'. We think he'll make a full recovery, but he's going to have to change his life and work habits if he doesn't want a relapse. As it is, it'll be at least a week before we release him, barring any complications. After that, he'll probably need someone to watch over him for awhile."

The doctor smiled again, the grim look disappearing. He watched Grissom struggle with the information for a moment. "I didn't see it." He said quietly. "I was right next to him and I didn't see it."

"People rarely see things when they gradually change. You didn't notice because you were so close."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course. He'll likely be asleep for several more hours though."

"That's fine."

"Right this way then." They stood and begin walking down the hall, Dr. Harper pausing occasionally to issue orders to passing nurses. "Do you happen to know Mr. Sander's living situation?"

Grissom realized he didn't. He had never seen where Greg lived, though he knew the address. "No."

"Ah. Well, Mr. Sanders and I are going to have a long talk when he comes around."

"Greg." Grissom almost absentmindedly corrected. "His name is Greg."

"Yes. Well, here he is. Visiting hours are open-ended, so you're welcome to stay with him."

"Thank you Doctor."

"Look after him, will you? He's awfully young to have gone through so much."

"I'll try." Dr. Harper nodded and they shook hands again before the doctor walked away and Grissom quietly pushed open the door to Greg's hospital room.

Grissom was used to seeing horrible things. He just hadn't realized till Nick's ordeal how much it affected him when it was someone he _knew_.

And seeing the normally vibrant young man lying nearly as pale as the white sheets made something in his heart clench painfully. Three IV lines ran into Greg's left arm, where bruises were already forming. There was an oxygen line taped over his mouth and his face was expressionless, smoothed out by the sedatives. Grissom pulled up a chair by his bed, sitting quietly there for a moment before he nervously reached out and gripped Greg's hand. "I'm sorry Greg. I didn't realize how bad it was. I should have reminded you that my door was open. I should of…" Grissom stopped, unfamiliar with the feelings of guilt. Emotional response wasn't something he was familiar with and wasn't his forte. He caught sight of his watch as he moved his wrist and realized his team was still waiting for the news he had just received. "I'll be right back."

He slipped out the door and picked Catherine's cell phone out of his phone directory. It rang once before she answered. "Willows."

"Catherine, it's me."

"Grissom! How is he? Is he okay?"

"He's stable, but apparently he's been pushing himself way too hard. He's very ill. The doctor said that he coughed up blood for a half-hour and his throat is shredded because of it. "

"God." He heard her whisper. He knew that Catherine had never quite managed to separate Greg's youth from her motherly instincts, though she rarely hesitated to give him the responsibility he deserved. "Is he going to be alright?"

"They think so, but they're taking a 'wait-and-see' philosophy. How's shift going?"

"Quiet, thankfully. And it's almost over. You're at Desert Palms right?"

"Yeah. It's room 307."

"We'll come as soon as shift ends. I already called one of Lindsey's friends' mother and she's getting taken to school. Warrick called his wife and Nick and Sara are both coming."

"He's under sedation right now." Grissom pointed out.

"We're still coming."

"I'll see you then." He flipped his phone shut and put it back in his belt.

He sighed as he looked through the small glass window at the man he knew, yet knew little about. He was a scientist and it was his job to understand each and every puzzle piece that he unearthed.

He just never realized how much harder people were to understand than crime scenes.

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Henrika- Ah, Grissom is being introspective. And Greg wakes up in the next chapter! Yea!


	3. Smile and Nod

Confessions on the Rooftop  
By Henrika

Henrika- Getting a pretty good response for this fic. Yay! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations because it finally, _finally,_ has Greg in it. Enjoy and review!

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Chapter 3

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There is just an eerie feeling you get when people are staring at you. For Greg, even under the influence of several sedatives, it was no different. Especially when there were five people staring at him.

He blinked a few times, assuring himself that the five people sitting by his bed were in fact his co-workers, and not some hazy illusion. "Greggo?" Nick asked.

He tried to respond and realized with a start that there was a tube down his throat. "Don't try to talk." Catherine warned.

_Thank you for the warning._ Greg thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes so the team got the message.

"How are you feeling?" Sara asked.

Greg was just trying to figure out how to accurately convey just how crummy he felt when Warrick solved his dilemma. "Here's some paper and pen man. Try not to move your left arm, you've got IVs in them."

Greg nodded and scribbled on the pad. 'What happened?'

"We'd like to ask you that." Grissom said seriously and Greg managed to cringe, knowing that he was going to get a proper interrogation the moment he could talk again. "We found you unconscious on the lab roof. Do you remember that?" The younger man nodded after a moment, scribbling again.

'I went up there for some fresh air.'

"And how are you feeling?" Sara asked again, clearly stating that now was not the time for an inquisition.

'Like I got hit by a truck. You?'

"Doing fine." She laughed.

"The doctor said you're probably going to be down for a week, and they're going to keep you under sedatives for the next few days." Nick said.

'Bummer. I get to be waited on by beautiful nurses while you're slaving away.'

Nick gave him a vicious grin. "I'm sure you'll be glad to know your nurse's name is Brunhilda. Say Warrick, you ever seen another woman with hands as big as dinner plates?" Greg paled as the younger members of the team shared a laugh. "Just kidding Greggo."

"Alright, enough clowning around." Catherine said. "Greg, we're glad you're okay. But we're all going to have a serious talk with you when you get better."

Greg mentally translated this to: _You have some explaining to do young man._

'Okay. How long until they take the tube out?'

"Another day." Grissom said, standing up. "We're going to let you sleep now, but we'll be back." Grissom could have sworn he saw Greg give a sad little snort, but he couldn't fathom what that meant. "Greg?"

'It's nothing. Just remembered something.'

"Humph." Grissom trilled, but decided to let it go for the time being.

"Take care, Greg." Catherine said.

"Yeah man, feel better." Warrick said.

Nick reached over and ruffled Greg's hair. "Try not to flirt with every nurse in the place."

'Haha.' Greg wrote out, crumpling the paper and successfully hitting the Texan in the head with it.

"I'm keeping your coffee under lock and key until you get back. Though I'm forced to take an interest rate of two cups a day." Sara smiled. Another paper was thrown, though this one missed by several feet. "See you later Greg."

They left, Sara clicking the door shut behind her. The smile Greg had managed to form against the tube faded and he returned his attention back to the pen in his hand. He began writing again, feeling the sedatives kick in as he did. He fell asleep the second he finished writing, the pen slipping from his grasp. The message pad still lay on his lap, the scrawled message the last thing he had really wanted to say.

'The last time I was in the hospital, I don't remember any of you coming to visit unless you were questioning me or confessing to me. What changed? Who would have thought that falling unconscious would have got me more sympathy than being blown up? Why try to care now?'

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Henrika- Ahh, he got all angsty on me at the end.


	4. Running Away and Coming Clean

Confessions on the Rooftop  
By Henrika

Henrika- I was considering being very cruel and splitting this into two chapters, despite them being kind of short, but I decided to be nice to the good reviewers and give you it all in one chapter. Looks like there should only be one chapter after this. The response for this fic has been great and I just wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed and, aww heck, everyone who lurks around and reads it. Enjoy and Review!

Grissom had driven to the hospital the next day after a restless night and a phone call from Dr. Harper saying that he had removed the tube and that Greg was able to speak, though he was still disoriented from the sedatives. He also said he was prescribing Greg a psychiatrist, though he didn't say why exactly. He mentioned a note that the night nurse had found, but didn't explain further. As he turned into the parking lot, Gil tried to go over every interaction he had had with Greg in the past few days, finding such instances severely lacking.

And the few encounters he did recall were almost muted, like his hearing was finally gone this time. _Muted._ He mused over the word, deciding that is described Greg nowadays. The young man had abandoned loud music, loud shirts, wild antics, and all but the occasional joke. He'd become quieter. _Muted._

He felt the slight rush of air and realized that he had entered the sliding doors of the hospital. He went to the elevator and pressed the correct floor button. He tried vaguely to remember the composer of the elevator music that hummed gently in the compartment, still pondering it as the doors chimed and he stepped onto the floor. He made his way to Greg's room and opened the door, greeting himself with a sight that was all too familiar since last night. An empty room.

He stayed objective as possible as he checked either side of the bed and around the room. It wasn't until he caught sight of the IV lines leaking on the bed that he truly realized that Greg was gone. He leaned partially out of the door and yelled, "Nurse!"

A petite brunette came running to his side. "What's wrong?"

"Where is he?" Grissom asked, calming his speech to ask more concisely, "Where's the patient that was in this room?"

The nurse peeked past him and squeaked, scurrying back to her station and picking up a telephone. Grissom followed her; slightly appeased when he found out she was locking down the hospital and sending security to look for him. Hanging up, she turned back to him. "I just checked on him 15 minutes ago. The sedatives were wearing off, but he still shouldn't have been able to walk." She said, sounding perplexed and guilty all at once. "And he wasn't scheduled for any tests today. All we did was take the tube out of his throat."

"You're positive?"

"Yes sir."

Grissom stood there for a moment, contemplating his latest mystery. "Does the hospital have roof access?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes, but…"

"Where is it?"

"A flight of steps up after the last elevator stop. But what does that have to do with the missing patient?" She asked.

"Everything." Grissom said, already heading for the elevator.

($()#())$(&)$()#(&$(#& (&())&(#&($&#(&()()$)(&$(

He didn't remember what had compelled him to find the rooftop. But once the urge had seized him, he couldn't sit still and had risen from the bed, not really feeling the IV lines as he pulled them from his arm. His throat felt vaguely like sandpaper, but it didn't occur to him to care much about it. He had searched out his clothes, knowing that the gown wouldn't be suited for the roof. Greg had snuck from his room and traversed upward, knowing that once he was on the roof everything would be fine. He didn't understand the faint sense of deja-vu he was getting, but it didn't particularly upset him once he had burst out into the fresh air.

He searched out the edge of the roof and peered over, trying to remember why he was here. _Fresh air?_ His mind offered and he took the explanation, gulping in the dry, warm air for several minutes. He took a seat on a conveniently shaped piece of pipe and attempted to piece together what he doing.

He was at a hospital. He had fainted. He had been on the roof. He had been so tired lately. Grissom had found him. Team had come to see him. Team was going to interrogate him.

Panic hit him as his explanation did. _Running. I'm trying to run away._

He heard a door slam open. He tried to get up and a wheezing breath knocked him right back into his makeshift chair. He remembered spitting up blood in his shower two days ago, a date that seemed ages away now. He remembered spots bursting over his vision as he tried to hold down the meal he had ordered into the lab yesterday. He remembered failing miserably and kneeling over porcelain. He remembered Papa Olaf's funeral weeks before. He remembered throwing himself into his work. He remembered blasting heavy metal until the neighbors threatened to call the cops on him, then lulling himself into an uneasy sleep with classical. He remembered Grissom standing over him and blinked, realizing that Grissom _was_ standing in front of him.

"Greg?"

He didn't remember pitching forward and sobbing into his boss' shoulder. He only half-remembered the awkward little pats and garbled words of comfort.

But he did remember that he hadn't felt quite that clean in a long time.

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Henrika- Wait a minute. Papa Olaf is dead? I killed him! With no explanation! Ooo, bad authoress. Very bad!


	5. Rooftop Sanctuaries

Confessions on the Rooftop  
By Henrika

Henrika- I am so sorry that this has taken so long. I've had to rework this chapter a couple of times because it just didn't look right and it was driving me nuts. That being said, I think I'm finally happy with the conclusion of this story. You guys have been absolutely awesome and I've received more htis for this story than any other. Hurray! Enjoy and review!

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Chapter 5

It took him nearly two hours, with stops and starts included where he was too choked up to talk, for Greg to relay the entire story of the past few weeks to Grissom. They stayed on the roof (Greg was more comfortable that way) though the younger man did allow his superior let the hospital know where he was.

After that, Grissom had calmly made true to the promise he had made nearly two years ago when he found Greg's hands shaking a few weeks after the lab explosion. And though they were nowhere near his office and though there was no door to have open, Greg took up the offer wholeheartedly.

"Do you remember the vacation time I took a few weeks ago?" Grissom nodded. "That was for Papa Olaf's funeral. It was in San Francisco. He died of a heart attack. No warning at all; he was perfectly healthy. 'Healthy as a horse' he always used to say to me."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Grissom paused, trying to word his next statement as tactfully as possible. "But you could have told us that you were having family issues." It still came out harsh and Grissom winced.

"I…" Greg stopped suddenly, his mouth hanging open slightly. He didn't know why he hadn't told them. For his part, he even knew that it might have helped him grieve. But instead he had ignored that rational side of himself and put in as much overtime as he could. "I don't know. It was a nice service. He would have liked it. He has Norwegian on his headstone. He said that if there's a God then he knows how to read Norwegian and he'll have no problems." Greg laughed slightly, coughing as it irritated his ragged throat. Grissom rubbed his back for a moment, then encouraged him to go on. "He was the kind of man who wanted to put the "fun" in funeral. But I just couldn't believe he was gone. He was the only family I had left. I didn't want to accept it. So I didn't. And I know how stupid it was because I've seen it one too many times in our line of work, but I still didn't want to be an adult about it. I worked as much as I could when I got back because if I was on a case, I couldn't afford to concentrate on anything else."

Grissom remembered with mixed guilt how he had been proud of Greg's work ethic, even though it hadn't occurred to him to why it had swung to such an extreme in such a short period of time.

"And you ended up in the hospital because…?" Grissom prompted.

"Because I stopped thinking about everything but the cases and Papa Olaf's death." He scratched his head sheepishly. "I kind of forgot to take care of myself." He paused for a moment, catching his breath. "I think I knew on some level what I was doing, but it just didn't occur to me that I could hurt myself this badly. I passed out in my living room four days ago. I had to start taking a cab to work, because I was so afraid of doing that while I was driving. I coughed up some blood in the shower and I still couldn't comprehend what was happening. And then Ecklie called me in to run DNA and I felt fine so I came in and ran the shifts and then I went up to the roof for some fresh air and I felt kind of dizzy and then…well, you know what happened after that."

Greg stood, albeit shakily, and went to the edge of the roof. Grissom accompanied him, allowing the younger man to lean against him as the short walk sapped his strength. "Why do you come to the roof to think?" Grissom asked quietly, settling on a neutral topic of conversation.

The spiky-haired brunette enjoyed the wind that was gently playing with his hair for a moment before he answered. "I think it was after the lab blew up. Even when they re-built it, there was no way it could be the sanctuary it used to be." Grissom mused upon the use of the word "sanctuary" for a moment, wondering what Greg needed to protect himself from before realizing that he felt the same way about his office. "So I started going around the lab, trying to find some place where I could think. And I found the roof. It was nice too." He said. "When the wind was blowing, I couldn't even tell that my hands were shaking."

"They're not shaking anymore, are they?"

"No." Greg agreed. "They're not."

"Then let's go back inside." Grissom held out for his arm for support and Greg looked out at the peaceful, electric glow of Las Vegas one more time before he took it.

"Right."

Dr. Harper stood over Greg's bed a few days later, eyeing the young man who was fiddling anxiously with his IV lines. He turned to the assembled CSI team who stood next to him. "I will only release Greg to the care of one of you. Otherwise he stays here for the next few weeks."

Greg gave the team a look that managed to appear horrified, puppy-eyed pleading, and desperate all at once.

"You can stay with me Greggo." Nick offered.

There was a pause that no one expected to be broken by Grissom's quiet voice. "You can stay with me as well." To Grissom's annoyance, the entire team looked surprised, though Greg smiled after a moment, mouthing a 'thank you' before he spoke.

"If it's okay; I wouldn't mind staying with you Nick."

"No problem at all man. I could use the company." The last part was said softly, but they all caught the thread of fear that had laced the Texan's voice ever since his ordeal.

"I'll do the laundry or the dusting or something." Greg promised.

"You'll do the dishes. Laundry I don't mind, but dishes I can't stand."

"Deal."

And Greg started laughing suddenly, causing a smile to break over them all. It was a little rougher than it should have been, but it was a sound that they hadn't heard in a long time. Greg looked up at them and smiled, Sophia's far away words that he used to be a funny guy echoing in his head. "Have you heard the one about the chicken?"

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Henrika- What did you think? Did it wrap up alright?


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